


Finding Purple

by TunnelRabbit



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Arguing, Babies, Class Issues, Cultural Differences, F/M, Fire Lady Katara, Fire Lord Zuko, Fire Nation Royal Family, Fluff with an edge, Married Life, Ninja Zutara, Parenthood, Politics, Post-War, Servants, Slice of Life, Zutara, post-canon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunnelRabbit/pseuds/TunnelRabbit
Summary: Fire Lord Zuko and Master Katara, married with children, mixing the red and the blue. A series of vignettes, of no particular number, in no particular order. AU from ATLA finale on. Takes place maybe 10-15 years later.





	1. The Family Bed

Katara would bring the babies into bed with them. Zuko initially found this weird. Uncomfortably…primitive. Civilization and breeding dictated separation and specialization. There were nannies for a reason, weren’t there? And in a palace covering acres, why pile the whole family into one bed? But the habit started to grow on him. They were very cuddly, after all.

“Well, that’s how we always did it at home. Of course, that’s partly because of the cold – body heat really matters. But it’s also just way more convenient to feed the baby at night right there in bed. I don’t know how mothers do it in other countries, getting up out of bed a dozen times a night.”

She would not hear of a wet nurse. “Please. I was given these breasts for a reason. I’m not going to just let them go to waste. Let the poor wet nurse feed her own babies.” Zuko protested that he could assure her they were _not_ going to waste, with or without a baby, but she just scoffed.

He did get her to promise not to nurse the babies where anyone but trusted servants could see them. He might adapt, but the court would see only a dirty peasant if they ever saw her nipple in a baby’s mouth. (Still, servants might whisper. He knew that.)

Katara agreed to it – the babies scarcely left their extensive private quarters anyway – but refused to accept any embarrassment or self-consciousness about the most natural act in the world. Ok, Zuko could understand that.

The first baby grew bigger, walked and talked, and still he was in bed with them.

Exasperated, Zuko complained, “But Katara, I really don’t get it. How can a couple, you know, make new babies, if the older babies are still hanging around…witnessing?”

She chuckled. “Actually, in smaller homes pretty much the whole family sleeps in one room – though not all under the same furs, I suppose.”

“So, for _years?”_ Zuko’s voice inadvertently squeaked.

Katara laughed outright. “Everybody knows what goes on under Mom and Dad’s furs, but everybody knows not to pay attention. I don’t know how we learn that, we just do.”

As the babies grew into toddlers and small children, and more babies followed, that bed got crowded. They got a bigger bed.

But they also got a second bedchamber. Zuko had his limits.


	2. Missteps

The first time it happened, it caught her off guard. It shouldn’t have.

The morning after the wedding, Katara slipped through the connecting door into what were now her own chambers and began to rummage through her gigantic closet for something normal to wear. She was interrupted by a gasp behind her. Nuna was on her knees in the center of the room, forehead pressed against the floor.

“Your Majesty. This servant deeply regrets her tardiness in assisting you to dress.”

 “Nuna! Please get up!” Katara rushed to her side and began to tug at her elbows. Nuna reluctantly rose, but kept her head lowered with her fist to her palm at her chest. “Please, Nuna, it’s just me.”

 “Yes, Fire Lady.” Still not making eye contact, Nuna backed into the closet, then efficiently selected an outfit for Katara to wear and dressed her.

Katara had to admit that the outfit was perfectly coordinated, perfectly attuned to the social requirements of the day, and yet comfortable and not out of step with her own personal style. But she would have been happier to have dressed _herself_ in something awkward and inappropriate.

She’d spent enough time with the Fire Lord and his people, being served by his staff, to know perfectly well that kowtowing, never turning ones back, and (for servants, at least) avoiding eye contact was the appropriate behavior before royalty. But it was unnerving to realize that royalty was now _her_. And she hated it.

She tried to stop them. She begged, pleaded, and eventually commanded her personal staff to revert to the more familiar treatment she had encouraged before the wedding. They would still bow upon entering and leaving her presence, and back out of a room (less than that seemed impossible for them), but she managed to get them to interact with her like normal human beings otherwise – at least in private and with Zuko.

Katara continued to help the servants out with little tasks throughout the day: folding clothes alongside Nuna as she organized her closet, swooping to pick up a few towels that the young maid had dropped, waterbending the floors dry immediately after a mopping. At best, they giggled when she did this; sometimes she caught worried glances and muttered comments behind her back. But she simply could not help herself. Surely they would get used to her.

Beyond the private chambers was another matter. The servants flat-out refused to breach protocol anywhere there were witnesses. Grudgingly, Katara could see their point of view. They would not want to be seen as doing their duty any less than perfectly. So she made a great effort to respect their dignity and allow them to wait on her in the outer chambers of the palace.

With the professional staff, Katara felt that a friendly and open approach should improve the working relationships and ease the distance that her change in status had created.

When warm and funny Amanu, Zuko’s personal secretary, with whom she had worked closely on many occasions drafting trade agreements and the like, began with the scraping and bowing, her first instinct was to laugh. He colored up and looked mortified, and if anything intensified his subordinate posture.

“Please, Amanu, you know me. Enough of that. Now let’s get to work.” The meeting proceeded as usual, albeit with new forms of address, until he departed, again treating her as royalty. Over the weeks, Katara coaxed, pleaded, and eventually ordered him to stop kowtowing and to please look her in the eye when he greeted her, like a regular person. “I’m still just Katara. Why should our working relationship change? We’ll be seeing more of each other now, so I’d like you to feel comfortable with me.”

Of course he complied, once her request became a requirement. But now meetings felt uncomfortable throughout. Amanu seemed hobbled by deep embarrassment of some kind. Frustrated, Katara assumed this was because he was unaccustomed to working with the Fire Lady in such a way, forgetting that their first meetings after the wedding had gone quite smoothly.

The nobility at court had been courteous and welcoming before Zuko’s interest in her became common knowledge, and during the engagement, had remained civil, but cautious. She had sensed whispers and gossip at the edge of every gathering—but that was to be expected. Their union was hardly uncontroversial.

Now she needed to persuade them to accept her as one of them. A Fire Nation waterbender. She knew this was not going to be a short-term project. She needed allies, and so targeted a few of the ladies at court to make friends with. She chose women she’d had meaningful conversations with, who she felt a connection with on some level, whether as benders, or philanthropists interested in her cultural exchange projects, or simply women with a shared sense of humor and curiosity about the world.

She invited them to tea in the gardens one afternoon. Upon arrival, each of them kowtowed appropriately, and with a warm laugh she would help them to their feet and seat them at the table, hoping to set them at their ease. Instead, they seemed to stiffen a bit. After a few conversational niceties about the weather, the refinement of the brew, and what a spectacular wedding it had been, Katara tried to reach out to them.

“I know that I make an unfamiliar figure as Fire Lady. But I hope you know that I am still the same Katara you knew before, I’m simply married to Zuko now. I would very much like us to be friends, and hope that you can help me learn as much as I can about my new home.”

There was a moment of silent discomfort. Lady Zheng, who Katara thought ranked higher than the others, spoke first, rather archly: “Fire Lady Katara, we will of course offer our services to Your Majesty in any way you require, as you adapt to life with His Majesty the Fire Lord.”

“Thank you, Lady Zheng. But it’s not really your _services_ I was hoping for….” There was an uncomfortable shifting and shuffling among the ladies. Kind Lady Wenya abruptly asked, “Has Your Majesty experienced the pleasures of Ember Island before?” in clear reference to the new couple’s upcoming honeymoon. “Uh, yeah, after a fashion…. Have you?” Katara answered clumsily, bemused by this sudden change of subject. Or was it?

They stumbled through the rest of the tea, awkwardly. The ladies had been formal from the beginning, but comfortable, elegant; now they seemed distant and almost…disappointed?

“Zuko?” Katara cracked open the door to his study before he had time to answer her tentative knock. “Can you talk?”

“Um, sure Katara, what’s up? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Zuko looked distracted, surrounded by piles of scrolls, untidy brushes, and half-used inkblocks.

“I’m sorry. Never mind. I’ll catch you later.” She turned to go. She never seemed to get it right with these people. Always out of step with their lives.

“No, please, sit down!” His voice rose with exasperation. He took a breath. “I always have time for you, Tara.”

She sat, and peered over his desk. “Wow, can’t you get the servants to do something about this mess?” He glared. She clapped a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that! I’m turning into one of you guys!”

“ _’Us guys?’_ Katara--!” She could see his frustration building back up. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep calm. “Isn’t that kind of the _point?_ Of marrying me? Living here? Helping me rule the Fire Nation?” He came around the desk and took her hand, kneeling beside her. “I _want_ you to become one of us.”

“Well, I’m not sure anyone else feels that way. I can’t fit in! Everything I do to try to connect to people seems to push them away. I want them to understand that I’m just like them, but they don’t seem to believe it.”

Zuko shook his head, forehead in his hand. “But Katara, you’re _not_ just like them. You married _me_. You’re above them.” He cringed at the horrified look of disgust she flashed at him.

“How can you say that! That’s so— _snobby!_ You’re not _better_ than them!”

“That’s not what I said, Katara.” He sighed. “Look, maybe it’s not ideal. Maybe it would be better if the Fire Nation were more egalitarian. But we’re not. Look around you. This whole place—the palace, the court, the way the government works, the city, the military—it’s all based on hierarchy. It _works_ because everyone knows their place in the structure. You pay proper respect to the ones above you and you show your responsibility to the ones below. I mean, we talked about this before, didn’t we?”

“Yeah…I thought I understood, but…. I know that I’m supposed to be a leader here now. I know that’s my responsibility and people will look to me for that. But I need a community around me. I need to feel like I _belong_ here. That’s where I’ll build my strength. So I’ve tried to reach out to at least those closest to me, to pull them closer. But every time I do, they just push me away. Almost like they’re… embarrassed.”

“Ah. Tell me exactly what you did, and what they did.”

When she’d finished giving him a long string of examples, he smiled, a little sadly.

“I think they _do_ want you to succeed. But when you overstep your position—like cleaning up something before a servant can, or insisting someone not pay you proper respect, it’s kind of…insulting.”

“ _What?!_ No! That’s the opposite of what I meant!”

“I know, I know. But it crosses a line. If they weren’t on your side, they would have been angry. Offended. As it is, you’re right, they do feel embarrassed. For _you_. It’s like a dance. You can’t join in if you’re changing the steps. You’re stepping on their feet.”

“Oh, Zuko.” She sighed, slumped. “I’ll try harder. I’ll learn the steps.” A tear threatened to roll down her nose. He scooted over in front of her and drew her to him. She leaned in and snuffled a little into his hair. “I just don’t want to lose being Southern Water Tribe. It would be like losing myself.”

“It’s just a role, Katara. We’re all playing roles here.”

 


	3. Shadows

A crescent moon hung over the tiered, tiled roofs of the palace. Only the keenest observer would have noticed two dark shadows creeping silently under one of the upper eaves. One of them slid to the corner of the roof and slipped over the edge, climbing down the wall below, lizard-like. The other, smaller figure positioned itself at the next corner and dropped gracefully to the rooftop below. Exchanging a quick glance and nod, each slipped into the nearest window at opposite ends of the building, as coordinated as dancers.

Inside, the man (for the difference in size denoted sex) seemed to melt into the ceiling of the corridor, bracing himself between the beams. Two guards standing sentry a few feet away noticed nothing. Inching forward, the man swung over to perch atop a tall, lacquered cabinet and reached up to grasp a bundle of taut, silk cords that ran along the top of the wall here. With a hushed sizzle the cords were severed, charred ends dangling, and the complex system of bell pulls used to send instant messages to other parts of the palace was disconnected.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the corridor, the woman whipped in through the window, slipping behind the long, velvet drapes that framed it, with a faint rustle. The nearest guard turned towards the sound and noticed a growing puddle of water seeping from under the draperies. Frowning, he went to investigate.

The other guard held her station, but watched the first, and therefore did not see the mysterious man alight from the cupboard behind her. In one movement, he clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and nose and pressed two fingers of the other into a specific spot on her neck. She crumpled, unconscious.

At the same time, the first guard reached the window and bent to examine the strange puddle. Suddenly, it turned to ice, sheeting under his feet. He slipped and fell, and as he put his hands forward to recover his balance, water leapt up to bind his wrists with ice and seal his mouth closed. The woman stepped out and swiftly rendered him unconscious as well. 

Exchanging another glance, the intruders slipped through the door the soldiers had been guarding. Light from the hallway revealed two small children sleeping in a large, regally canopied bed. The woman glided across the chamber to them, arms outstretched.

The man crept over to a smaller bed, where a boy of 6 or 7 slept. Before he could touch him, however, the boy sat bolt upright in bed and blasted a jagged flame at the intruder’s masked face. Blocking it with reflexive speed, the man laughed. 

It was a warm laugh, with a note of pleased surprise.

“Dad?” 

He pulled off his black mask and gave the boy a hug. “Well done, son!”

Shrieks from the other bed announced that the younger girls had awakened.

“Hush, it’s only me,” Katara said gently, pulling her mask off and gathering them up in her arms.

The two guards, barely recovered, one dripping half-melted ice, stumbled into the room and assumed a firebending stance, looking around frantically.

“Not good enough,” Katara snapped at them.

Zuko ordered, “You’ll be demoted for retraining and I’ll see your replacements here tomorrow. Dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call back to "The Southern Raiders." They made a great ninja team.
> 
> I haven't had much experience writing action. Did it make sense? Could you follow what was happening?


	4. Soft Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang visits. Zuko and Katara argue.

He dreaded bringing it up. But they were his friends and they should know. Also, world peace was at stake (but for him, that was just another Tuesday). Aang cleared his throat. “And, um, there’s something else. About your marriage.” He paused, nervous.

“Go on, Aang,” Katara encouraged. Aang cast her a grateful look. Even now, he relied on her love to shore up his resolve, as essential to him as the support of Appa’s back. Only now, he had to soak it in on short visits and recall it to his heart later, on the fly.

“You know that as I travel all over the world, I try to keep an ear to the ground, to make sure I catch any seeds of conflict before they take root.”

“Of course, Aang. That’s part of the job of the Avatar,” said Zuko.

“And I’m particularly attuned to anything that is said about the two of you. I can’t help it.” He flushed slightly. 

“We’re your friends, Aang. You care about us.” If only it were so simple.

“And then I worry that because you’re my friends, maybe I don’t see the big picture as clearly where you’re concerned.”

“Yes, that is always a challenge, when the political and the personal intersect,” Zuko acknowledged, with a nod, nudging him on. (“Get to the point,” Aang could practically hear him say.)

“But then, I might be able to see the big picture better than you. They’re saying…how to put this.”

Aang felt a wave of impatient heat emanate from Zuko. Katara placed a cooling hand on his arm.

“Ok, people still resent how much the Fire Nation took from them.”  
  
“Obviously…”

“And they’re saying that you taking Katara is just more of that. That even though the Fire Nation is not using the military any more to plunder other nations, the mindset is still there. That they—you—still feel entitled to…possess whatever they—you—want.”

“I am not a _possession!_ ” Katara huffed indignantly, face darkening. This time, Zuko was the one to place a hand on her shoulder.

“I know, I know!” Aang’s hands went up, eyes wide. “But you know some of the peoples think that way about women, and marriages. Especially the Northern Water Tribe, but a lot of the Earth Kingdom, too. And you did frame it as a treaty marriage.”

Katara glowered. Zuko crossed his arms and frowned. “Go on.”

“And…of course they assume your children will be Fire Nation.” Aang could not stop his eyes from sliding to her belly. Was it rounder than before? “And there’s fear that you might create waterbenders loyal to the Fire Nation. Blurring the lines, upsetting the balance. That’s why they come to me about it.”

Zuko sighed thoughtfully. “I see…”

Katara scoffed. “But that’s covered in our nuptial agreement—the children will be raised according to their bending ability and any waterbenders will be ‘repatriated upon maturity.’ We did that specifically to _avoid_ this kind of controversy. And even this whole ‘treaty marriage’ sham was done to appease those chauvinistic Northern Water Tribesman!”

“Well, first of all, not everyone _knows_ the details of your agreement. They’re just reacting to what they see. These aren’t world leaders, just chieftains, village mayors, councilman, shamans. Everyday people, but with influence on their home ground. That’s why I’m a little worried. This talk can spread.

“Secondly, they do have a point, in a way. Whatever the terms, there’s no way this marriage doesn’t look like the Fire Nation gaining something from the Water Tribes. Sure, the Southern Water Tribe gets a good trade deal and an in with the Fire Lord politically. But they lose their most—they’re only—powerful bender, and—sorry, Katara—a woman, and all the new little Tribespeople she might make, benders or not. To replace the ones killed _by the Fire Nation_.

“While you”—he nodded at Zuko—“don’t lose anything. And you get lasting influence with them. Maybe for generations. The Fire Nation will always be home for your kids—the land, the food, the music. It’s where they’ll get their first education, their first friends. And waterbenders or not, they’ll carry your blood. Down the line, firebenders could be born into the Water Tribes.”

“They haven’t lost me…exactly. But I—I never really thought about it that way.” Katara said quietly. “We were mostly worried about how I might threaten Zuko’s position here. And whether my village could accept it—on a personal level.”

“Anyway, there probably already _are_ firebenders among them,” Zuko objected. “The war wasn’t exactly…clean. You know there are illegitimate children of Fire Nation soldiers all over the world. That’s the whole point of the Mobile Firebender Training Initiative you and I launched—to make sure we don’t have flaming balls of resentment careening all over, out of control.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have political power the way your family does. This is a whole different game of airball. And you know, Zuko, a lot of people aren’t that comfortable with MoFTI, either. They think it’s just another way for the Fire Nation to keep their fingers in the other nations—even if it’s through education instead of force.

“They’re saying these things—your marriage, the MFTI, your other programs to help the other nations, all the things you’re doing to rehabilitate the Fire Nation’s image—are actually a move to reclaim the power you all lost at the end of the war—sort of a ‘soft power.’”

“Soft power, huh? Interesting way of putting it.” Zuko looked thoughtful. “Fair enough, I guess. I did take into account these advantages to the Fire Nation, of course, in making my decisions.”

“Zuko, I thought you were a different kind of Fire Lord!” Aang protested in dismay, at the same time catching the offended look Katara shot at Zuko.

“I _am_ , Aang! Have you noticed me committing any genocide lately? But the Fire Lord is still the leader of the Fire Nation, and that duty comes before anything else. I _always_ need to think first of what will benefit _my people_.”

Katara held up a hand. “Wait, you factored in the _advantages to the Fire Nation_ before you decided to marry me? The ways it might make you more _powerful?_ ”

“Katara, we discussed the political implications at length back then. Though not exactly as Aang’s painting them right now, I suppose. I am certainly concerned if it’s generating new kinds of resentment.”

“No, back up. When you say you always think of the Fire Nation first, where does that put me? And our family?”

“In the Fire Nation, of course!” Zuko’s voice was rising. He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, the way Aang had seen him do so many times before to govern his temper. “Could we perhaps discuss this at another time, Tara?” He glanced at Aang and meaningfully back at Katara.

Aang could feel the cold coming off of Katara, the way ice chills the air around it. “Of course, dear Fire Lord.” Her sarcasm was not the teasing kind.

Aang was not sure he completely understood all the undercurrents in the room, but he was very sure he didn’t want to get caught up in them. “So! Just thought I’d alert you to what they’re saying out there. Gosh, it’s late. Sleep on this, talk a little more in the morning? Soft power, Zuko, think about it.”

He was standing up, straightening his orange robes, and through the door before they could respond.

 

* * *

Katara was silent a brief moment until Aang was out of earshot; Zuko regarded the familiar set of her jaw nervously. She took a deep breath, then leaned in.

“I was _not_ Fire Nation when you made your calculations about how _advantageous_ our marriage would be. You were _actually_ considering how to get the best deal out of the arrangement? Giving lip service to the ‘balance of the nations,’ ‘uplifting the Southern Water Tribe,’ ‘giving back,’ but all the while making sure the Fire Nation stayed on top?!”

Zuko willed himself not to raise his arms defensively. “Tara, it wasn’t like that!”  
  
“Don’t you ‘Tara’ me. I am Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. I was then and _I still am_. And when I say ‘our family,’ I mean our kids, but I also mean Hakoda, Kanna, Sokka. Whom you’ve accepted as part of _your_ family, or so you said. But you don’t try to pull one over on your family.”

Zuko rose, now furious. They stood nose to nose. “I did not ‘pull one over’ on you! You had every piece of information that I had. Nothing was concealed. And we talked it all through. You knew what you were giving up! If you didn’t see the implications down through the generations— I just— I mean, wasn’t that obvious?” He broke eye contact for an instant—that flip in his stomach wasn’t guilt.

“ _No_ , Zuko! Not everyone comes from a lineage! I don’t think that way! And all these projects you’re doing overseas—you’re just thinking of how they’ll keep the Fire Nation influence alive?”

“Well, it’s better than before! At least it’s about giving people something to _respect_ , something to _admire_ about the Fire Nation, instead of terror! And no, it’s not _just_ that. You _know_ it’s not!”

With a roar of frustration he let loose a smoking punch and nearly shot a ball of flame through the wall, but froze himself in time. Not before Katara had reacted, yanking all the tea out of the pots and cups and flinging it towards him.

Katara’s eyes went wide as the tea vaporized off his fire-charged body, then she stormed out of the room without another word.

Zuko sat alone, trying not to seethe. Of course he had to consider the national interest, at every turn, no matter the context. It was not simply a job; he could not leave the shop and come home. As Fire Lord, he embodied the Fire Nation, and therefore what he did with that body, and with whom, had political consequences.

Which was not the same as saying he was confident his every decision was right. Far from it. Had he wronged his wife? He was not sure. When he thought and acted as Fire Lord, shooting true in the interest of power, he wobbled on the axis of right and wrong. But when he tried to plumb the moral line, he held his nations interests in doubt.

A movement out the window caught his eye. Katara was in her water garden, waterbending. Of course she was. The garden, terraced with pools edged in stone filigree (commissioned from the Earth Kingdom’s finest bending stonemason), and threaded with small cascades that descended into a broad reflecting pool, had been his wedding present to her.

Zuko pulled aside one of the iridescent curtains she’d recently insisted on to break up the monotonous red of the palace—they did resemble actual fire better, he noticed, revealing a shifting spectrum from yellow to orange to blue, with surprising glints of green or purple, depending on how they moved and how the light struck them.

At first, Katara cracked water whips, hurled ice arrows, and made the waters surge and crash like miniature tides. He noticed that she contained herself, however, so as not to inflict any damage on the grounds. Gradually, as the moon rose, her tides softened and slowed and she relaxed into the rhythm of a familiar kata. She moved in widening circles, arms fluid as the swirling streams, hips swaying forward and back in sympathy with the waves, a dancer in tune with the music of the planet.

Katara is a great artist and master, far too great for this place, Zuko thought. Why had he trapped her here like an exotic fish in a pond? To gratify his need for love? The Fire Nation takes whatever it wants. He had wanted and he had taken. Heir to his father’s line indeed.

Zuko found that watching Katara bend had quelled his own anger as well as hers. He felt drained, and sleep beckoned.

 

* * *

Aang walked into the breakfast room, yawning and rubbing his scalp, and saw Zuko already seated at the table. He sat down and was immediately served a bowl of smoked fish atop green noodles—Fire Nation and Water Tribe comfort foods in one bowl, Aang noted with a smile. A rainbow of accompaniments sat on the table:fresh herbs, chili paste, and an assortment of local, tropical fruits. He started to dig in, then noticed Zuko was barely touching his food. He raised an eyebrow at him.

Zuko sighed and rumpled his loose hair, looking down at his plate. “I’m not sure what to do, Aang. About the marriage problem.”

Aang heard the emotion in his voice suggesting that this was about more than international politics. He was tempted to respond only to the latter, but thought a moment before speaking. “How is Katara these days? Is she finding a place for herself here?’

“Well, yes, she’s trying.” Zuko straightened. “Very hard. You know how involved she always is with everyone around her. She’s been trying to reform the palace. Persuading the ladies of the court to work together instead of competing—talk about an impossible task.” He gave a rueful chuckle and shook his head. “Overseeing—with me—the revamping of the national school curriculum. Not that she’s a scholar, exactly, but she keeps us honest. She’s even been replacing some of this interminable red decor.” He waved a hand at the walls around them with a smile.

“And she gets out of the palace, too. She holds a clinic in Harbor City every week. She heals people there with her bending, of course, but I understand she’s also coaching the neighborhood healers in basic knowledge from the Water Tribes.

“She’s a magnificent woman, Aang.” Zuko looked him in the eye. “Was I wrong? To take her as my wife? To claim this influence in the world through her?” 

Aang softened and laid a hand on his. “I don’t think you took her, Zuko. Maybe that soft power goes both ways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a bit long - maybe I was trying to do too much. It’s more like three vignettes—a three-shot?--covering three or four ideas. Hope it made logical and emotional sense.


End file.
